Have you ever had one of those moments in your life where you almost wish you could do it over...but you actually don't because of how ridiculously hilarious it is? Well, if not, too bad for you! I had one of those moments today, and although I feel like a complete moron, it was totally worth it.
So I am a member of several online groups, which mostly consist of a bunch of catty moms with nothing better to do than bitch and complain and gossip. Yes, I am one of them. I think I have said it before, and I will continue to admit that I am a lover of gossip and an instigator of shit for the fun of it. There is one girl that I have noticed posting a lot lately, who seemed to have a lot in common with me, and so I went to her page to request her as a friend and start a chat. For the sake of making it easier, let's call this girl Sandy (her name is NOT Sandy). So I go to Sandy's page, and it shows she is in a relationship...with one of my exes! It's crazy, right?! I mean, it's not a huge city or anything, so I wasn't terribly surprised, and it seems like my exes have a way of creeping back up on me anyway. Right, so, Sandy is in a relationship with Jackson Smith (again, NOT his actual name).
So I send her a private message that says: omfg. So I just went to look at your timeline because I notice you have
been posting a bunch, and I like what you say...and holyshit. [Jackson] and I
dated like 5 years ago!!! How did you guys meet??
Well, I didn't hear back from her, and then I clicked on Jackson's name...and we weren't friends. I thought it was strange because we had remained "friends" after breaking up, and every now and again we would say a friendly online "hello." I shrugged it off and assumed he must have unfriended me because of his blossoming relationship with Sandy...until he showed up on my chat bar a bit later, when I realized that Sandy is apparently in a relationship with a different Jackson Smith. This was about an hour after I sent her the message above...you know, giving her plenty of time to call/text/go down to Jackson's work and rip his balls off for cheating on her...
So of course, I sent her a second message letting her know that I was thinking of the wrong Jackson Smith, but I mean, let's be real here. The damage has been done. I look like a complete psycho stalker cheating whore. My friends, of course, found it incredibly entertaining and funny. Personally, so do I. I can't believe that I expected that there would be only ONE Jackson Smith...Honestly. And why did I not check if it was the right dude from the beginning?! The only plausible answer I have is that I wouldn't have anything to write about today had I done so.
So, Sandy...while I truly apologize for causing any unnecessary drama in your life, I must also thank you for allowing me to make a complete ass out of myself. And I wish you and Jackson Smith all the best for a very happy and bright future...sans crazy psycho stalking idiots such as myself.
It's really too bad for me, though, because I am pretty sure that she is an awesome chick....and would have made a great friend...you know, if I hadn't been a complete fucking moron <3
Here's to the blonde moments!
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Where is the Laundry Fairy?
Well, dear friends, I finally did it...What did I do? I folded laundry. I let it sit for almost 2 weeks. Yes, I'm hardcore. I thought that if I let it sit for long enough that the laundry fairy would come...It didn't happen. So I have deduced that one of two things is going on: 1. There is no laundry fairy. -OR- 2. I have behaved poorly. I guess there is a third choice as well...BOTH. At any rate, while folding, I lamented about the fact that the majority of the laundry is that of my preschooler...I asked my friends if they had any advice for my dilemma, and none of them did. In fact, it's apparently a very common issue among parents of young little darlings. Well, actually, it's a terrible combination of things that is happening here...
1. The Diaper Factor. This first struggle is pretty simple, actually. Well, I mean, it makes complete sense to me. She doesn't wear a diaper anymore. When she did, though, we obviously would change her whenever she was wet or smelly. So, it only stands to reason that every single time she uses the restroom now...she must change her panties. I am really unsure of how to teach her that it really isn't necessary to change them every single time. I mean, technically, it's not a bad habit, right? It's pretty good, hygenically speaking...A bit odd, maybe...OCD? Possibly...but it's not harmful. So there's challenge #1
2. The Dress-up Factor. The second struggle actually leads into the third struggle, but anyway, it's all about dress-up in our house. She has a dress-up chest, where all her most treasured pieces are supposed to be...SUPPOSED being the operative word. That never happens, of course. They end up all over the house, and then I get interrogated as to their locale when she can't find her "peacock" or "the black dress" or her "Aurora skirt." Yes, they all have specific names. She frequently changes dress-up gear, generally after a couple songs on the Kindle...I allow this because I am a "pick your battles" type of parent, and I'm really more of a hippie, so I don't pick many. One friend did suggest designating one day of the week as "dress-up day" and not allowing dress-ups any other day during the week. Apparently, she is insane. If I tried to do this, the world would, most certainly, come to an abrupt end in the eyes of my little girl. Not. Happening.
3. The Quick Change Factor. As I said, struggle #2 leads into this one. Here is where it gets extra tricky. In between songs or other various activities, she deems it appropriate to change out of dress-up clothing and into normal clothing. SO...she will strip down wherever she is at that moment (sometimes the bathroom, kitchen, living room, and if I'm lucky...her bedroom) and find something to wear. Of course, she must also choose new panties to go along with her outfit. It just makes sense that way. Another friend suggested that she chooses several outfits for the week, and then we just put everything out of reach until the next week comes. This sounds fab...in theory...but in practice? Where the hell am I supposed to put her damn clothes?! We have a small house, and as it is the master bedroom is somewhat of a storage closet.
So here I sit...in front of my computer...drink in hand. What's a mom to do? I guess I'll just keep on foldin' and holding out hope that the laundry fairy will come next week?
1. The Diaper Factor. This first struggle is pretty simple, actually. Well, I mean, it makes complete sense to me. She doesn't wear a diaper anymore. When she did, though, we obviously would change her whenever she was wet or smelly. So, it only stands to reason that every single time she uses the restroom now...she must change her panties. I am really unsure of how to teach her that it really isn't necessary to change them every single time. I mean, technically, it's not a bad habit, right? It's pretty good, hygenically speaking...A bit odd, maybe...OCD? Possibly...but it's not harmful. So there's challenge #1
2. The Dress-up Factor. The second struggle actually leads into the third struggle, but anyway, it's all about dress-up in our house. She has a dress-up chest, where all her most treasured pieces are supposed to be...SUPPOSED being the operative word. That never happens, of course. They end up all over the house, and then I get interrogated as to their locale when she can't find her "peacock" or "the black dress" or her "Aurora skirt." Yes, they all have specific names. She frequently changes dress-up gear, generally after a couple songs on the Kindle...I allow this because I am a "pick your battles" type of parent, and I'm really more of a hippie, so I don't pick many. One friend did suggest designating one day of the week as "dress-up day" and not allowing dress-ups any other day during the week. Apparently, she is insane. If I tried to do this, the world would, most certainly, come to an abrupt end in the eyes of my little girl. Not. Happening.
3. The Quick Change Factor. As I said, struggle #2 leads into this one. Here is where it gets extra tricky. In between songs or other various activities, she deems it appropriate to change out of dress-up clothing and into normal clothing. SO...she will strip down wherever she is at that moment (sometimes the bathroom, kitchen, living room, and if I'm lucky...her bedroom) and find something to wear. Of course, she must also choose new panties to go along with her outfit. It just makes sense that way. Another friend suggested that she chooses several outfits for the week, and then we just put everything out of reach until the next week comes. This sounds fab...in theory...but in practice? Where the hell am I supposed to put her damn clothes?! We have a small house, and as it is the master bedroom is somewhat of a storage closet.
So here I sit...in front of my computer...drink in hand. What's a mom to do? I guess I'll just keep on foldin' and holding out hope that the laundry fairy will come next week?
Friday, April 13, 2012
Party ON.
Well, as my loyal friends and followers know, my girls' birthday party was this past Saturday. I am writing about it just now because I have been busy entertaining my mother, who I finally kicked out of my house yesterday morning. Love ya, Mom...but it's nice to be able to walk around naked and not have someone asking me what we're doing for dinner every.single.night.
At any rate, there are a few things you need to know about this party. 1. We chose to do ONE party for BOTH kids. You know why? Well, because it's damn expensive to throw a party, and they're not old enough to know any better. 2. Their birthdays are 3 months apart, well 21 months apart actually. No, they aren't twins of any kind (not Irish, not fraternal, definitely not identical). 3. I have a tendency to go overboard when planning a party. In order to keep me from doing so, Hubby and I decided to move the party away from our residence.
So, we decided to have the party at My Gym. No, not MY gym, like I even have room for that. Or like I'm rich or something and have a fitness center. It's just called "My Gym." It's a kids' fitness center, but that sounds horrible. Every time I drove past this place I kept picturing mini treadmills and mini dumbells and even mini trainers, like elf trainers or something. Don't ask. Anyway, the name is, in my humble opinion, quite deceiving. Really what it is...is this amazing place for your little ones to burn off all kinds of energy without hurting themselves! It is owned by Kendall Robinson, who has just an amazing gift with children. Seriously, I think my kids would play with him until he physically couldn't play any longer. And they listen to him. BONUS!
The best part of the entire deal, though, was that we decided to hire a photographer. It was kind of a splurge, in that it's not ordinarily something we would have done. That being said, we knew there would be tons of action, and our cameras just wouldn't be able to keep up with that. I had gotten a recommendation from a friend who was doing a special, so I decided to book her.
It was probably the best decision I ever made, well, maybe second to starting therapy. Anyway, Sarah Neese, of Lillybug Photography captured the memories for us so that we could enjoy the party, socialize with the guests and play with the kids. She knew exactly what we wanted and delivered more than I could have hoped. Even better? She is so hard core that she had just gotten off the road, returning home from her spring break beach trip! Her rate was incredibly reasonable, and she did a far better job than I could have done...Honestly, best.decision.ever.
Of course the favorite part for the kids is always cake, though. I mean, honestly. What's a birthday party without cake?! Well, one of the best parts about my mom visiting was having her help with the party preparations...which was making cupcakes. And since I'm THE Domestic Goddess, you know I can't do anything by the book. So we decided to make pink and purple cupcakes. They looked amazing and tasted even better. We did strawberry flavoring, and I made amazing purple buttercream frosting. And believe me, the kids LOVED them.
At the end of it all, everyone was sufficiently worn out, and it was time to head home. It was seriously the best party EVER, though, and we fully plan to do the same thing next year. This is kind of where my giveaway post was born, since I am big into supporting local business, especially awesome ones. So, if you have a chance, please check it out and enter! You are sure to be as impressed as we were, if not even more!
At any rate, there are a few things you need to know about this party. 1. We chose to do ONE party for BOTH kids. You know why? Well, because it's damn expensive to throw a party, and they're not old enough to know any better. 2. Their birthdays are 3 months apart, well 21 months apart actually. No, they aren't twins of any kind (not Irish, not fraternal, definitely not identical). 3. I have a tendency to go overboard when planning a party. In order to keep me from doing so, Hubby and I decided to move the party away from our residence.
So, we decided to have the party at My Gym. No, not MY gym, like I even have room for that. Or like I'm rich or something and have a fitness center. It's just called "My Gym." It's a kids' fitness center, but that sounds horrible. Every time I drove past this place I kept picturing mini treadmills and mini dumbells and even mini trainers, like elf trainers or something. Don't ask. Anyway, the name is, in my humble opinion, quite deceiving. Really what it is...is this amazing place for your little ones to burn off all kinds of energy without hurting themselves! It is owned by Kendall Robinson, who has just an amazing gift with children. Seriously, I think my kids would play with him until he physically couldn't play any longer. And they listen to him. BONUS!
It was probably the best decision I ever made, well, maybe second to starting therapy. Anyway, Sarah Neese, of Lillybug Photography captured the memories for us so that we could enjoy the party, socialize with the guests and play with the kids. She knew exactly what we wanted and delivered more than I could have hoped. Even better? She is so hard core that she had just gotten off the road, returning home from her spring break beach trip! Her rate was incredibly reasonable, and she did a far better job than I could have done...Honestly, best.decision.ever.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Well I'll Be A Polka Dotted Octopus...
So Happy Belated Easter, friends and fans! It was a SUPER fun weekend over here in our corner of the world. We've all been battling a cold like it's the Revolutionary War or something. It's insane. It just keeps going like the damn Energizer Bunny. Screw the Easter Bunny...The Energizer Bunny has it going on! At any rate, everyone in the house is sick. Literally, everyone. And you know Hubby is the worst and biggest baby of them all. Little Monster has a diaper rash that looks like it could eat a kangaroo or something. Big Monster has a cough that could blow the roof off the house...and then Saturday (the day of their birthday party, OF COURSE), I get out of the shower...look in the mirror...and HOLY EFFING CHRIST...I looked like someone had bedazzled my body...only not cute...like, horrible red blotchy bedazzlements. AWFUL. I kinda froze...And tried not to panic. I mean, it's not like I have anxiety or anything. It's not like I had just quit taking a new medication that I thought could have been causing Little Monster's kangaroo-eating diaper disease....OH WAIT. That's right...I DID just quit taking a new medication that I thought was eating at my daughter's girl parts. GAH!!!!
I shrugged it off, even after Mama Bear (my mom) told me she thought it was measles. Strangely enough, there was a recent outbreak not far from here...Aaaaand so we threw the girls' birthday party. <<Insert shameless plug for awesome photog friend, Sarah Neese of Lillybug Photography>>
It was an absolute BLAST! They had tons of fun and ran off as much energy as was humanly possibly, I'm pretty sure. I wore enough clothing to cover my bedazzled body and wore my hair down and kind of in my face to hide it. GEEEZ. I guess it worked because no one really said anything or seemed to stare.
Fast forward to Sunday morning...Happy Easter! I came out to the living room, where Mama Bear was sleeping, and she sat up and looked at me: "Ummm? I think it's either worse or just not gotten any better overnight..." So I took a stroll back to my bathroom to check it out...O...M....F....G....THIS is what I saw:
Holy Easter eggs, Batman! I looked like a damn polka dotted octopus! I calmly called for my mom to come back to help me decide what to do...And my first thought was that I should go to the E.R.? We were all convinced that it was measles...like, everyone was. So I called the on-call number for my primary care doctor...And I received a callback from an RN who was way less than helpful. Obviously I was interrupting her holiday meal, and she told me to take a Claritin and call my doctor on Tuesday if the rash hadn't subsided. I asked her if I should be concerned that it could be measles or a rash caused by a new medication I had been taking (Lamictal)...she was more worried about her mimosa getting warm and the deviled eggs being gone by the time she got back, I think...She definitely told me I had nothing to worry about...and to take Benadryl if it got "really bad" between now and then.
Dr. McHottie called to check in with me this morning and told me the advice I received yesterday "was crap." That's right, folks. It was crap. He said that I needed to be seen in order to determine what was causing me to look like a polka dotted octopus. So, as much as I hate doctors, I relented. Okay, really, the only reason I consented was that he said he wouldn't put me back on the books until I found out why I was suddenly bedazzled. Mind you, I look a little less bedazzled today than I did yesterday...so I didn't feel too bad about going out of the house.
The PA I saw today told me that it's classic bedazzling due to a drug allergy. wah wah waaaaahhhhh. Boosauce. I really liked the damn drug. Too bad it ate my little monster's butt and bedazzled me, huh?
So anyway, I decided that it is time to switch to cloth diapering...on top of everything else going on at the moment. I mean, I guess I am just one of those people who feels like you can never have enough shit going on! I just felt like since we have tried every diaper concoction known to man, trying to get rid of the diaper rash, and nothing has worked....that it was time to stop slapping chemicals on my poor little monster's behind. So that should be interesting...you know, knowing absolutely nothing about cloth diapering...and deciding one day to just up and do it. I went with gDiapers. I like that I have the option to stick a disposable insert in there if I'm feeling lazy...It suits me.
So that's my weekend in a nutshell...or an eggshell. Whichever you prefer ;-) I hope everyone had a great holiday weekend!
Here's to new adventures!
I shrugged it off, even after Mama Bear (my mom) told me she thought it was measles. Strangely enough, there was a recent outbreak not far from here...Aaaaand so we threw the girls' birthday party. <<Insert shameless plug for awesome photog friend, Sarah Neese of Lillybug Photography>>
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| Photo Credit: Lillybug Photography |
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| Photo Credit: Lillybug Photography |
Fast forward to Sunday morning...Happy Easter! I came out to the living room, where Mama Bear was sleeping, and she sat up and looked at me: "Ummm? I think it's either worse or just not gotten any better overnight..." So I took a stroll back to my bathroom to check it out...O...M....F....G....THIS is what I saw:
Dr. McHottie called to check in with me this morning and told me the advice I received yesterday "was crap." That's right, folks. It was crap. He said that I needed to be seen in order to determine what was causing me to look like a polka dotted octopus. So, as much as I hate doctors, I relented. Okay, really, the only reason I consented was that he said he wouldn't put me back on the books until I found out why I was suddenly bedazzled. Mind you, I look a little less bedazzled today than I did yesterday...so I didn't feel too bad about going out of the house.
The PA I saw today told me that it's classic bedazzling due to a drug allergy. wah wah waaaaahhhhh. Boosauce. I really liked the damn drug. Too bad it ate my little monster's butt and bedazzled me, huh?
So anyway, I decided that it is time to switch to cloth diapering...on top of everything else going on at the moment. I mean, I guess I am just one of those people who feels like you can never have enough shit going on! I just felt like since we have tried every diaper concoction known to man, trying to get rid of the diaper rash, and nothing has worked....that it was time to stop slapping chemicals on my poor little monster's behind. So that should be interesting...you know, knowing absolutely nothing about cloth diapering...and deciding one day to just up and do it. I went with gDiapers. I like that I have the option to stick a disposable insert in there if I'm feeling lazy...It suits me.
So that's my weekend in a nutshell...or an eggshell. Whichever you prefer ;-) I hope everyone had a great holiday weekend!
Here's to new adventures!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Oh I Wish I Was A Flying Pink Unicorn...
Well, I am sure some of you who read my blog have been thinking...DAYUM! This girl has some drama! And maybe you've even thought...She may want to invest in a good therapist. And I got to thinking after this last big clusterfuck of an argument with my dad and sister...You know, behind every person who really has their shit together is a great therapist. I know the saying says that behind every great man is a better woman or something, but clearly, that is wrong. So after enough nervous breakdowns, after being told time and time again that I am the problem in my life, it was time to get a professional's opinion. After all, just 2 days after my most recent argument with my father, he was calling my husband and urging that I "get some serious help" because my medications are obviously "out of whack." Little did he know that I had already made the call and was quite looking forward to meeting my knight in shining Audi (or whatever uber expensive car he drives since he is obviously loaded).
When I made the call, he told me that he didn't have any immediate openings but was happy to put me on a "wait list." At that point, I was sold. I mean, if anything has a wait list, you know it's money. He said that it would be probably 2 weeks before I'd get a call for an appointment, but I honestly did not give a shit. I was willing to wait it out. I had just enough Xanax to get me by and plenty of tequila for back-up. Right? Well, I had lost track of time, and by the end of the second week I started to think that maybe my number had gotten lost in the shuffle of his insanely popular office desk. He called on a Saturday to say that he had ONE appointment available, and I told him I'd take it. He tripped a bit over himself and said, "Well, um, uh, it's Monday...at 1:00...does that work for you?" Yeah, because Monday at 1 pm works for every mom of a toddler with a working husband and no childcare provider...I told him I would Tim Gunn-it, you know, "make it work." So he emailed me 4 pages of paperwork to fill out, detailing my family history, etc.
I was given four lines to explain my reason for coming to see him. FOUR LINES. I had no idea what to write...So I just started laughing and thinking of witty remarks to put there instead: "See my blog." "Not enough space provided." "My family is fucking nuts." I settled on a brief summary of the most recent debacle regarding my sister's wedding. I also had to fill out the family history of mental illness, which took up nearly a full page. AWESOME! I figured he would look at my paperwork when I got there, and I would literally see dollar signs in his eyes...
Well, on D-Day, I drove my crazy ass downtown, parked in a parking garage and got lost. Literally, IN the parking garage. Then, when I finally figured out how to get into the building, I couldn't find his name on the list of codes...So I panicked. Of course! Perfect! Panic attack 20 minutes before initial psych appointment. Classic. I figured there must be some way around the code thing, and so I went out on the street and found the main entrance to the building...PHEW. Hubby was meeting me there to baby swap so that I could actually have a productive appointment, which was perfect. So please allow me to set this hilarious scene for you.
I realized just 5 minutes before my appointment was scheduled to start that I needed to boob the baby. So I figured doctors always run late. No big deal. I'll pop her on for a few minutes on each side and be ready to go whenever he shows up...NOT! The dude comes hobbling out, perfectly on time...on crutches with an air cast on one leg...and with me...baby attached to boob. Awkward! He said, "Um, well, it looks like you're in the middle of something. Would you like me to give you a few minutes?" I didn't care, so I walked baby-on-boob, following behind his crippled ass back to his office. I plopped down on the lime green infamous sofa and asked Hubby to dole out the paperwork...which was in my Pampered Chef catalog that I had taken to lunch with one of my girlfriends.
I must say, it was love at first appointment, honestly. This guy was definitely worth the wait. And to top it off, he's easy on the eyes...BONUS! I told him that I half-expected him to tell me that I was a flying pink unicorn, prescribe me some great meds, and send me on my crazy delusional way...Unfortunately, though, he says I'm not crazy. He said I have a lot of crazy going on around me, which apparently makes me think I am crazy, which ironically, is normal. He tells me medication isn't going to fix what is going on with me, and I know he's right. So, for now, I will continue to live in my medicated world while also meeting with him on the regular to try to sort my shit out...And seriously, it is the best decision I have ever made, not only for me, but for my family.
Here's to therapy!
When I made the call, he told me that he didn't have any immediate openings but was happy to put me on a "wait list." At that point, I was sold. I mean, if anything has a wait list, you know it's money. He said that it would be probably 2 weeks before I'd get a call for an appointment, but I honestly did not give a shit. I was willing to wait it out. I had just enough Xanax to get me by and plenty of tequila for back-up. Right? Well, I had lost track of time, and by the end of the second week I started to think that maybe my number had gotten lost in the shuffle of his insanely popular office desk. He called on a Saturday to say that he had ONE appointment available, and I told him I'd take it. He tripped a bit over himself and said, "Well, um, uh, it's Monday...at 1:00...does that work for you?" Yeah, because Monday at 1 pm works for every mom of a toddler with a working husband and no childcare provider...I told him I would Tim Gunn-it, you know, "make it work." So he emailed me 4 pages of paperwork to fill out, detailing my family history, etc.
I was given four lines to explain my reason for coming to see him. FOUR LINES. I had no idea what to write...So I just started laughing and thinking of witty remarks to put there instead: "See my blog." "Not enough space provided." "My family is fucking nuts." I settled on a brief summary of the most recent debacle regarding my sister's wedding. I also had to fill out the family history of mental illness, which took up nearly a full page. AWESOME! I figured he would look at my paperwork when I got there, and I would literally see dollar signs in his eyes...
Well, on D-Day, I drove my crazy ass downtown, parked in a parking garage and got lost. Literally, IN the parking garage. Then, when I finally figured out how to get into the building, I couldn't find his name on the list of codes...So I panicked. Of course! Perfect! Panic attack 20 minutes before initial psych appointment. Classic. I figured there must be some way around the code thing, and so I went out on the street and found the main entrance to the building...PHEW. Hubby was meeting me there to baby swap so that I could actually have a productive appointment, which was perfect. So please allow me to set this hilarious scene for you.
I realized just 5 minutes before my appointment was scheduled to start that I needed to boob the baby. So I figured doctors always run late. No big deal. I'll pop her on for a few minutes on each side and be ready to go whenever he shows up...NOT! The dude comes hobbling out, perfectly on time...on crutches with an air cast on one leg...and with me...baby attached to boob. Awkward! He said, "Um, well, it looks like you're in the middle of something. Would you like me to give you a few minutes?" I didn't care, so I walked baby-on-boob, following behind his crippled ass back to his office. I plopped down on the lime green infamous sofa and asked Hubby to dole out the paperwork...which was in my Pampered Chef catalog that I had taken to lunch with one of my girlfriends.
I must say, it was love at first appointment, honestly. This guy was definitely worth the wait. And to top it off, he's easy on the eyes...BONUS! I told him that I half-expected him to tell me that I was a flying pink unicorn, prescribe me some great meds, and send me on my crazy delusional way...Unfortunately, though, he says I'm not crazy. He said I have a lot of crazy going on around me, which apparently makes me think I am crazy, which ironically, is normal. He tells me medication isn't going to fix what is going on with me, and I know he's right. So, for now, I will continue to live in my medicated world while also meeting with him on the regular to try to sort my shit out...And seriously, it is the best decision I have ever made, not only for me, but for my family.
Here's to therapy!
Not Your Mama's Chicken Salad
Curried Chicken Salad
What You Need:
1 lb boneless/skinless chicken breasts
1 celery stick
1/4 c chopped walnuts
1/4 c dried cranberries
1/2 c mayo w/olive oil
Curry powder
What To Do:
Get up in the morning and make yourself a cup of coffee. Then get out your slow cooker (aka crock pot) and put the chicken in. Pour about 1/4 c water in as well, just to make sure the chicken doesn't stick & burn. Cover the chicken with a dusting of curry powder. I use quite a bit, but you can do as much or as little as you like. Turn your slow cooker on low for about 4 hours (though cooking times vary). Halfway through, flip the chicken & dust with a bit more curry powder (you CAN skip this step, though it adds more flavor). When the chicken is done, it will fall apart. So take it out and pop it into a bowl big enough to mix all the ingredients. Shred the chicken. Add the cranberries, walnuts & celery. Add the mayo & mix it up. Add enough curry powder to tint the mixture yellow. Pop it in the fridge to chill...and enjoy!
**Please note: ALL of my measurements are approximate. I don't believe in measuring when it comes to cooking...I'm not that great at math. So please just use those measurements as a starting point!
Monday, April 2, 2012
Enchiladasagna: What Happens When Mexico & Italy Make Babies
What You'll Need:
1 package of corn tortillas
1 can refried beans
1 can black beans, drained
2 cans red enchilada sauce
1 16 oz tub of sour cream
1 lb ground beef, preferably lean
Shredded cheese, LOTS of it (2-3 8 oz packages)
1 16 oz jar of your favorite salsa
1 small onion, diced
taco seasoning
Fresh cilantro
What To Do:
Preheat your oven to 350. Spray your pan with your favorite cooking spray, I used a 9 x 13 dish. Saute the onion along with browning the ground beef, add taco seasoning to taste. Once the beef is nearly done, add the salsa and the black beans and bring it to a simmer. Turn off the heat. Pour enough enchilada sauce to cover the bottom of the baking dish. Cut the tortillas in half (I used a pizza cutter), and spread refried beans on the tortilla halves that are on the bottom layer. Cover it with a layer of cheese. Start the next layer by using the corn tortillas to cover your first layer. Add the meat mixture on top of the tortillas & cover with the remaining enchilada sauce from the first can & some from the second can. Layer more tortilla halves, top with remaining meat mixture, more sauce, and a good, thick layer of cheese. Bake it covered for 30 minutes. Pop it out of the oven, top it with the sour cream & bake for another 10 minutes. Top with fresh cilantro garnish & a side of guacamole. I promise your family will love you for this meal. PROMISE.
Loyalty: It's a Girl's Best Friend...Well, That & Wine
So isn't the internet awesome?! My favorite part of the internet is that it knows literally everything. And you can't hide a damn thing, well nothing you put on the internet anyway. So, there's this girl...isn't that how all the best stories start?! Anyway, she and I were internet friendly and often had online conversations. We were both members of a couple groups on the internet. There was one group that remained secret, non-existent, a "Fight Club" of sorts. It was a place that members could say anything they wanted to say about anyone. Those places pretty much don't exist anywhere anymore...Well, the girl was removed from the group because she couldn't keep her trap shut. I'm pretty sure she was rather pissed because she wanted to be a part of something "cool." The group was absolutely cool. At any rate, this girl decided to call me out on another forum...Classless and rude were the words she used to describe me. I mean, I guess you could say that I can be rude...or that I'm just honest. ALL.THE.TIME. Some people don't like that. I've been told so many lies in my lifetime that I'd rather someone be blunt and honest than lie to me.
Whatever happened, though, I never publicly called this girl out. I never uttered her name. To me, it was the "classy" thing to do, you know, not publicly scold her or tell everyone what a complete joke she is, what a two-faced bitch she is. She subsequently blocked me on Facebook. I really don't care, although I'm not sure exactly why. I wasn't any kind of threat to her, nor was I harassing her or otherwise poking at her. A few days later, I figured out how to use Pinterest (yay, me!)...I started pinning the cool things that you see on some of my other entries, and magically, said chick decides to follow me on Pinterest. Funny, right? What's that all about?! You block me on Facebook, but you definitely want to follow my awesomeness on Pinterest? So I asked if people thought it was weird...and magically, she unblocks me on Facebook. Curious little cat, isn't she?
It got ugly when there was a post on a group that slandered one of my friends...and ME. Literally, she spelled out our first and last names and completely slandered us. She said that I had created a group that bashed other women from the other groups. She said that I was two-faced and that she name-dropped so that others would know about me and wouldn't be subject to the same fate that she was. She said that she "quickly left" once she "realized what it was" and that my friend and I were "the main bashers," whatever that means. I asked her to kindly not repeat my name again, and she got defensive and told me she was going to block me again. I told her that I wasn't sure why she ever UNblocked me...
So this leads me to a couple of things. First, it's all about loyalty. I've said it before, and I will continue to repeat it until I am dead and gone. I am loyal to my true friends. If you show me loyalty, you're damn right that I will reciprocate and take a fucking bullet for you. I'm that loyal. But listen, if you fuck me over, you best find a good hiding spot. I don't take kindly to people who fuck me over. I especially have no respect for liars. And I have plenty of people watching my back. How many people are watching yours? The last thing I am is two-faced. Anyone who actually takes the time to get to know me knows that. My friends know I will be the first to tell them they look fat in that dress, that their boyfriend is a worthless piece of shit, and that they need a new haircut. Whatever it is, I'm honest.
Here's the second thing: you know those people who say "I hate drama," "I don't need the drama," etc.? They're fucking liars. Everyone likes drama. Everyone. Women like drama, they like mindless gossip, they like criticizing each other, and they like to bitch about their husbands (no matter how awesome they really are). Why else do people watch television or read books or celebrity gossip magazines? Why is reality tv so damn popular? If everything was without conflict, life would be a boring ass waste of time with nothing to learn. Now, listen, you may not like to create drama perhaps, but own your shit. We all enjoy a little drama. It's fun. It makes life interesting. So those people who say they aren't about the drama...those are the ones you better watch. They are probably talking shit about you right this moment. Those who admit they enjoy a little drama, you can bet your ass they'll tell you when you look fat in something...and those are the friends I want in my life.
Here's to the haters...
Whatever happened, though, I never publicly called this girl out. I never uttered her name. To me, it was the "classy" thing to do, you know, not publicly scold her or tell everyone what a complete joke she is, what a two-faced bitch she is. She subsequently blocked me on Facebook. I really don't care, although I'm not sure exactly why. I wasn't any kind of threat to her, nor was I harassing her or otherwise poking at her. A few days later, I figured out how to use Pinterest (yay, me!)...I started pinning the cool things that you see on some of my other entries, and magically, said chick decides to follow me on Pinterest. Funny, right? What's that all about?! You block me on Facebook, but you definitely want to follow my awesomeness on Pinterest? So I asked if people thought it was weird...and magically, she unblocks me on Facebook. Curious little cat, isn't she?
It got ugly when there was a post on a group that slandered one of my friends...and ME. Literally, she spelled out our first and last names and completely slandered us. She said that I had created a group that bashed other women from the other groups. She said that I was two-faced and that she name-dropped so that others would know about me and wouldn't be subject to the same fate that she was. She said that she "quickly left" once she "realized what it was" and that my friend and I were "the main bashers," whatever that means. I asked her to kindly not repeat my name again, and she got defensive and told me she was going to block me again. I told her that I wasn't sure why she ever UNblocked me...
So this leads me to a couple of things. First, it's all about loyalty. I've said it before, and I will continue to repeat it until I am dead and gone. I am loyal to my true friends. If you show me loyalty, you're damn right that I will reciprocate and take a fucking bullet for you. I'm that loyal. But listen, if you fuck me over, you best find a good hiding spot. I don't take kindly to people who fuck me over. I especially have no respect for liars. And I have plenty of people watching my back. How many people are watching yours? The last thing I am is two-faced. Anyone who actually takes the time to get to know me knows that. My friends know I will be the first to tell them they look fat in that dress, that their boyfriend is a worthless piece of shit, and that they need a new haircut. Whatever it is, I'm honest.
Here's the second thing: you know those people who say "I hate drama," "I don't need the drama," etc.? They're fucking liars. Everyone likes drama. Everyone. Women like drama, they like mindless gossip, they like criticizing each other, and they like to bitch about their husbands (no matter how awesome they really are). Why else do people watch television or read books or celebrity gossip magazines? Why is reality tv so damn popular? If everything was without conflict, life would be a boring ass waste of time with nothing to learn. Now, listen, you may not like to create drama perhaps, but own your shit. We all enjoy a little drama. It's fun. It makes life interesting. So those people who say they aren't about the drama...those are the ones you better watch. They are probably talking shit about you right this moment. Those who admit they enjoy a little drama, you can bet your ass they'll tell you when you look fat in something...and those are the friends I want in my life.
Here's to the haters...
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